Fire in The Restaurant
by Grace-Logan
Summary: What I felt should have happened in the restaurant fire scene ;) #Sunakawa Makoto #Gouda Takeo (They haven't got the character selection 0.0)


Takeo hadn't come out yet. Sunakawa watched, eyes blurring, world quiet, as before him the restaurant burned to the ground, his best friend, his brother, burning within it.

Sunakawa held his phone to his ear, Takeo's number already being called on instinct. "Takeo? Can you here me?" Sunakawa asked, he didn't wait for a reply. "So, Yamato-san's this close to jumping into the flames." He was surprised he even knew what was happening around him, everything was foggy, as if he were watching, hearing, sensing everything through a thick haze of fog.

"Now that you've grasped the situation, can you get back here already?" Eyes closed and face down he breathed in, the smoke, the smells, the ash. "Life's pretty boring for me too, if you aren't around." Why wasn't he answering?

"Takeo, oi! Can you hear me?" Sunakawa called into the phone, his desperation for anything, anything at all, any sign that Takeo was still alive in there bleeding into his voice. The call cut off. Sunakawa waited. Waited and waited. Waited until he couldn't anymore. He dropped his bag; his phone and threw his jacket on the ground. He was rushing into the flames before anyone could reach out and hold him back.

Up three flights of stairs at his pace wouldn't have even winded him, if it hadn't been for the smoke and ash he was inhaling with each gasping breath. Sunakawa pulled up the collar of his shirt to cover his mouth. It didn't stop the coughing though.

Sunakawa stumbled into the third floor restaurant, shirt over his nose, coughing, his eyes watering. "T-Takeo!" Sunakawa collapsed to his knees, his body trying to hack up a lung. He grabbed the blistering doorframe and hauled himself to his feet, he stumbled further into the room. "Takeo! Where ar-." He doubled over.

"S-Suna?!"

Sunakawa stumbled toward the voice, covering his mouth and nose but coughing anyway as the smoke evaded his futile efforts. _A hand!?_ Sunakawa dropped to his knees and tugged on the hand, large, brown and warm, too warm.

"Suna…"

"Takeo-" Sunakawa tugged weakly on Takeo's hand again, resting his other on the nearest piece of the pile covering it he pushed. He felt his strength leaving, his lungs heaved for air, the hand pushed back.

"Get out." "Eh?!" His world was closing again.

"Get ou-out, Suna, get out! L-leave!"

He tugged Takeo's hand, harder as his vision greyed around the edges, coughing fits wracked his form. "No. Takeo no. Come."

"Go Suna."

"NO!" He covered his mouth hacking up just as much smoke as he was breathing in. His hand on the pile dropped to the floor to hold up his weakening body. "No Takeo, I won't-." His vision faded to black, his hand went limp, his body hit the ground lightly, telling tales of his weight as nothing shuddered and collapsed under or onto him. An unheard sigh passed by his lips.

"Suna…" Takeo reached out and dragged Suna, with the rest of his strength, under the pile of debris with him. At least here, despite there being almost no room between the two now, at least here there was relatively clean air. Enough for one of them to survive he hoped.

" _A tragic ending this afternoon as a restaurant fire claims the lives of two 16 year old high school boys, Gouda Takeo and Sunakawa Makoto. Gouda Takeo saved the lives of two of his friends, losing his life in the process. Sunakawa Makoto rushing in to save his friend unfortunately, with no success. The debris of the restaurant are currently being inspected to find the cause of the fire and the families of the deceased boys will be greatly reimbursed by the restaurant who have offered to pay for a joint funeral for the two, to help the families as they mourn…"_

Yamato hit the off button on her TV remote and hugged her knees to her chest. It hadn't quite hit before then... exactly what had happened. She felt like someone had torn out her heart, stepped on it and ground it into the dirt. She felt like gravity was trying to make her heart implode. She screamed into her pillow, pressing her face deep into the fluff, tears and snot mixing and mingling on the cotton cover as she wailed helplessly, cried in despair for those she lost.

A week later the boys were buried, side by side with matching white headstones. Yamato could barely drag herself out of bed to attend. She wondered what it was like for their families. If she could barely function without help after losing both her boyfriend and a friend, they had lost sons and brothers. People they had known for the boy's whole lives where she had only known them for a few weeks.

Everyone looked terrible. Blue bags under their puffy red eyes, tears spilling no matter how hard they tried to wipe them away, hair dishevelled and clothes creased. Lowering them into the ground was the hardest part. Their mothers fell to their knees clutching each other and wailing to the heavens, their fathers wiped at their eyes but proudly let their tears fall. Yamato hid her face in her scarf, sniffing quietly to herself and letting his scarf absorb her tears. She felt arms circle her, her mother's arms, she leant into them, didn't move a muscle aside form her unwilling shaking. Crying was all she could do. Was all anyone could do as the two were buried and reality came crashing down. They were gone.


End file.
